


Red Herring

by Askellie (NadaNine)



Series: SLAUE [3]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Fontcest, Implied soul rape, M/M, Oral Sex, Prostitution, Sexual Abuse, honeymustard - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 23:04:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8508985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NadaNine/pseuds/Askellie
Summary: “I’m putting together a harem,” Chara tells him by way of explanation, apparently having picked up on the incredulous arch of Papyrus’s eyebrow through the camera’s narrow scope of vision through his eye-socket.


  “Seriously, kid,” Papyrus mutters, not sure whether he’s more amused or bewildered. “You’re really kind of a freak, aren’t ya?”

Once Chara gets an idea, it's impossible to talk them out of it.





	

“I’m putting together a harem,” Chara tells him by way of explanation, apparently having picked up on the incredulous arch of Papyrus’s eyebrow through the camera’s narrow scope of vision through his eye-socket.

“Seriously, kid,” Papyrus mutters, not sure whether he’s more amused or bewildered. “You’re really kind of a freak, aren’t ya?”

Chara laughs: a hearty sound over the microphone, unoffended by Papyrus’s irreverence. “Aww, you’re so sweet. Are you worried about my reputation?”

“I’m worried about my sanity,” Papyrus answers, taking a harsh drag on his cigarette. “You’ve already got my hands full with Edge’s training. Why the hell do you want me to take on another one this soon?”

“I’m sure this one won’t give you nearly as much trouble,” Chara coos sweetly. “It looks like someone’s broken him in already, don’t you think?”

Papyrus grunts an agreement. Unlike Edge, who’d fought furiously through every step of his auction, the small skeleton currently on display is quiet and still aside from his shivering. His arms are curled protectively around his bare rib-cage, and he flinches at every wild gesture the auctioneer makes in an attempt to talk up the meek little monster’s promising attributes – which have been so elaborately and perplexingly worded that Papyrus isn’t actually sure what they’re meant to be.

“That could be even worse,” he replies at length. “If I have to undo some asshole’s shitty ideas of discipline-”

“Stop complaining and make the bid,” Chara snaps, and Papyrus sighs, knowing the conversation is over. Well at least he tried.

* * *

The cell he’s led to after the auction isn’t nearly as formidable as Edge’s had been. It looks much more like the interior of a cheap motel room. The floor is carpeted, and the walls are decorated with an eye-searingly gaudy pattern. Papyrus looks around, unimpressed. The small skeleton is sitting on a ratty looking bed with a mattress that’s visibly sunken through the centre, though he jumps to his feet when Papyrus enters. He’s not restrained aside from the suppression collar, but having scanned the bidding papers, Papyrus knows why. The poor thing only has one HP. Any attempt at resistance, particularly against a human, would likely result in an accidental dusting.

He sighs again, stepping closer. “All right, then. Let me get a look at you.”

The smaller skeleton flinches again, as if surprised to be addressed directly. Papyrus can practically smell the distress he’s exuding, but given his fragile constitution, it’s understandable he’s so twitchy. He doesn’t seem to know how to respond either, bracing as Papyrus reaches for him and going stiff as a statue when the taller skeleton merely cups his face and guides it upwards for a better look.

Papyrus had never imagined he might meet another skeleton more scarred than Edge, but surprisingly this timid creature has him beaten in both the sheer number and diversity of marks that have been carved into his bones. Papyrus can’t even identify them all. There’s pitted pock-marks near his elbow joints that in a human might indicate some sort of injection-based addiction, but monsters don’t imbibe human narcotics in the same way, and he’s never heard of one that would need to be injected directly into the marrow. A labyrinth of cracks run over his ribs and sternum, some too neat and uniform to have been accidental. There’s even a strange scorching of crimson under his eyesockets where it looks as if magic has permanently seared into the bone, creating an odd crimson discolouration. His eyes are the same colour, and that’s another point of strangeness. Determination isn’t a common pigment for monster magic. Papyrus can see easily how Edge might have adopted it – his stubborn, volatile personality is a good fit for one of the most formidable soul traits – but this pathetic looking monster is practically his opposite in every way.

“What do you think?” Chara asks over the microphone, sounding intrigued, and Papyrus realises he’s been staring for too long.

“Hmm,” Papyrus hums ambivalently, signally to his employer that he isn’t really sure yet. His instincts are telling him that something isn’t quite right, but he can’t put his finger on why. The other skeleton isn’t giving him much to work with either, holding still in his grip and deliberately avoiding his gaze. He needs to try a different approach.

“Your name is Red, right?” he asks.

The skeleton nods sharply once, his expression rigid and withdrawn. Papyrus offers him a gentle smile anyway, trying to keep his movements slow and his tone soothing. Obviously Red finds him intimidating, so he glances around before taking a seat on the edge of the bed where Red was perched earlier. He pats his lap meaningfully. “Come sit with me a minute. Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you.”

Not that he could, unless he wanted to destroy Chara’s purchase before even taking him home, so perhaps the words aren’t as reassuring as they could be. Still, after a halting moment of indecision, Red moves over to him, obviously fighting his body’s rigid terror to comply. Surprisingly, he curls into Papyrus’s lap as directed, his small frame hunched and looking smaller than ever, but he presses into Papyrus’s ribs and holds still. Papyrus suspects this isn’t the first time he’s been ordered to do so.

“Very good,” he approves, hoping the positive reinforcement might help ease the smaller skeleton. He reaches up to gently pet Red’s skull, and only then does he catch a glimpse of a new expression; barely disguised relief.

Papyrus almost scowls. He’s more sure than ever that his earlier assessment was right; that some sadistic, heavy handed bastard was probably the one to break Red in to slavery. He’s going to have a hell of a time undoing their handiwork, if Chara is really serious about that harem idea…

A spark of light flickers in his vision, and he glances down in surprise to see something bright glimmering inside Red’s ribcage before he feels a violent shove nearly throw him back on the mattress. He only barely catches himself before his magic coalesces in an attempt to retaliate, but one glance at the smaller skeleton tells him Red’s reaction is one of mindless panic and not ill intent. Red practically falls out of his lap in an attempt to scramble away, backing up several paces, hands crossed in front of his sternum as if he has any hope of hiding the shining light of his soul gleaming through them.

“I’m sorry!” Red gasps, shaking hard enough that his bones are rattling with terror. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

He repeats it frantically, cowering against the expectation of pain. Papyrus tentatively allows his own magic to dissipate as Red falls down to his knees, grovelling on the floor. When there’s no immediate retribution for his actions, Red dares to look up, his eye sockets wide and wet with tears.

“D-don’t…” he stutters around heaving breaths, needing to take several more before he can complete his sentence. “Don’t touch it. Please, don’t, I…I can take c-care of you, just…don’t…please, don’t…”

He crawls forward, moving purposefully in between Papyrus’s knees and coaxing them open with quiet desperation before reaching for the zipper of his pantsuit. Papyrus lets him, still reeling in surprise even as cracked phalanges delve beneath his clothing to fondle the bones of his pelvis. Upon seeing no sign of rejection, Red hastily follows up by pressing his face to Papyrus’s crotch and replacing his tentative touch with his tongue.

His movements may be clumsy with urgency, but there’s enough zeal in the smaller monster’s attention to make up for the lack of skill. The distant part of Papyrus that can still analyse the situation objectively notes that Red must be more acclimatised to servicing humans than other monsters. He seems unfamiliar with the anatomy of the pelvis, lapping cautiously and attentively with his conjured tongue, seeming uncertain in how to best give Papyrus pleasure but learning attentively from each hitch of breath and quiet moan. He seems to take the subdued reactions as a sign of inadequacy rather than shock, and with a whimper of distress Red redoubles his efforts, teeth and tongue nipping and suckling over Papyrus’s pubic mound in a way that brings him to a very rushed, unfamiliar climax.

Red doesn’t seem to realise he’s finished, and he has to forcibly push the smaller skeleton’s head away before he comes apart from the over-stimulation. “T-that’s enough.”

Red stares up at him, still looking dismayed, so Papyrus awkwardly pats him on the head as he tries to catch his breath. “That was…that was fine. I’m good. I won’t touch your soul, okay?”

Red seems to collapse in on himself, hunched pitifully at Papyrus’s feet. “T-thank you.”

His soul is still glowing, but Papyrus does his best to avert his eyes, standing up and straightening his clothes. He doesn’t look back at the pitiful figure hunched on the floor as he makes his way over to the door and rapidly knocks thrice. The attendant meets him, smiling expectantly, and Papyrus waves him off.

“I need to have a word with my employer.”

The attendant bows agreeably and retreats to a polite distance down the corridor. Papyrus leans against the wall and shakily light up another cigarette, feeling perturbed.

“Well,” says Chara, having watched the whole encounter over the video feed. “What did you think?”

Papyrus takes a minute to organise his thoughts and ascertain all his conclusions before he speaks. “We should cancel the sale. It’s not worth it.”

“What?” Chara sounds annoyed. “Why?”

Papyrus takes a resolute breath. “He’s too broken, Chara. You’re not careful enough to be able to handle him, and I’m not having another monster’s dust on my hands just because you’re curious.”

“Was the blowjob that bad?” Chara snarks back, a warning edge to their voice. “You seemed to enjoy it well enough.”

“It’s not about that,” Papyrus growls. Red’s technique had been…adequate. A little bizarre and startling, but about what Papyrus would have expected from someone inducted by a brutish, human Master.

It’s the soul manifestation that bother him.

There are only two reasons for a monster’s core to coalesce like that. Either the individual is one of those rare, joyful, empathic souls who resonate easily in the presence of other monsters…

…or they’ve been abused so brutally and repeatedly that they’ve lost all control over their innermost self and the slightest provocation can force it into the open like some kind of reverse self-preservation instinct. A broken compulsion that presents as a self-destructive death-wish, basically.

Papyrus has no doubts about which of the two categories Red belongs to.

“I can be careful,” Chara declares after a long, sullen silence. “Besides, would you really rather leave him here? For someone else to claim?”

Papyrus grimaces, feeling safe enough to assume Chara won’t see it. It’s not that he’s soft. Hell, not that he can afford to be, working as Chara’s enforcer. Papyrus has done more than his share of dirty deeds. He’s made callous choices. He’s fucked people over who didn’t deserve it.

Apparently this is one of the few things he’s not fully inured to. He thinks of how Red begged him not to touch his soul, and shudders in disgust.

Humans are so enamoured with souls. They don’t have any natural aptitude for interacting with them, not even their own, so the idea of some careless, ignorant human ignoring Red’s pleas and actually touching his soul without consent…

“If we do this,” he says grudgingly, staring hard at the smouldering end of his cigarette. “You will have to listen to me. You can’t overstep, not ever. I’m not cleaning up another of your messes, Chara. You have to promise me.”

The threat hangs, poised and dangerous between them, laced with unspoken repercussions. Papyrus is generally a pretty easy-going monster, but when promises are involved, they’re absolute. Even Chara seems to give it a moment of appropriate consideration before they answers. “Fine. I still want him. I’ll do whatever you say.”

Somehow, it still doesn’t feel like a victory. Only the beginning of new headaches. Papyrus releases an explosive breath, rubbing at his temple before gesturing towards the distant, waiting attendant.

“Don’t you dare forget,” he says lowly. “I wouldn’t want to give you a bad time.”


End file.
